


kintsugi (a time before us)

by karass



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Chicago, Amnesia, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bittersweet Ending, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Non-Linear Narrative, Romance, Temporary Amnesia, johnny centric, johnny owns a cafe w jaehyun, or is it really amnesia?, ten is an art teacher, this is depressing as fuck, tw // suicide mention
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-19
Updated: 2020-07-19
Packaged: 2021-03-05 06:35:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,976
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25379977
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/karass/pseuds/karass
Summary: In a lonesome suburban Chicagoan University hospital, Johnny Suh wakes up from a coma only clutching fragments of his past life. But as things are starting to take shape, pieces of his past begin to resurface. This would all be alright if it weren't for the presence of Ten Lee.
Relationships: Chittaphon Leechaiyapornkul | Ten/Suh Youngho | Johnny, Jung Yoonoh | Jaehyun/Kim Dongyoung | Doyoung, kinda markhyuck crumbs in the beginning but that's it, side!
Comments: 16
Kudos: 63





	kintsugi (a time before us)

**Author's Note:**

> Hi guys! This isn't the sequel to 'i have loved you since we were eighteen' but it's still something that I worked super hard on, the premise is admittedly quite similar to [nakamoon's](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nakamoon/pseuds/kai%20of%20the%20wild) [13th month's stardust](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15570435) but I tried my best to add my own spin to the trope, structure and plot twist. 
> 
> This is the first time I tried doing a non-linear plot line with excerpts from my own poetry (If you can call it that haha) so I hope whoever chooses to read this mess of a fic can enjoy it to a certain extent.

**Kintsugi (金継ぎ)** is the art of repairing broken pottery by mending the areas of breakage with gold

☆

There’s a pregnant pause between the moment Johnny knocks on the front door of the little red brick house and whoever is rushing to see who’s there.

Johnny only wants the wooden panelling beneath him to swallow him whole. 

But to understand this story, we must take a few steps backwards.

☆

Time. It’s a perpetual concept, one that’s dogged mankind from the moment it was conceptualized. In its essence, it’s not coherently a terrible thing. This is something that is acknowledged by man in its gist.

☆

Now if you exclude the muffled shuffling of feet and pen scratching on paper that occasionally seeped through the doors, it wouldn't be a far stretch to assume that the subtle beeping of the life support machine seems to be the only sound that’s ever filled the room. The hospital room is essentially barren, nothing of color exists within. There are no drawings on the walls, there are no books on the desks, no flowers in the vase on the bedside table. Needless to say, it’s in dire need of life.

The nurses sigh as they pass by room one-two-seven, it’s a hopeless case, one that only leaves inquirers with pity and much distress. And as the IV bag is about to drip for the last time, a sliver of hope falls upon the sole resident of the final time, like sunlight slipping through the cracks of the blinds of a window. A flinch of a finger, fortunately caught by a resident doctor on duty. 

What used to be a tale of fading rumors swiftly becomes a mecca of gossip amongst the hospital staff. When is the man in room one-two-seven going to wake up? What’s his story? Who is he? These questions are fleeting, no one knows much about the patient except for the doctor in charge of his care and his armada of hand selected nurses who all seem to be sworn to secrecy. It’s a strange perjury, something that irked those who lingered in approximation.

The mist of mystery remains however, as the man awakes, he’s cheerful and bright but it’s quick for everyone to conclude that he is only a destitute shell of the person he once was. A product of distinguished mistakes. So perhaps Donghyuck was right, he was a lost cause, especially with his only visitors being a handful of mismatched men they brush away as the man’s friends or colleagues. He argues with Lucas that the man in question is the son of some rich billionaire, who’s ashamed of the fact that he’s got a son lying in comatose in a mediocre suburban Chicago university hospital.

Mark rebutts however, he was the one who found his hand wavering as he removed the IV tube, he thinks there’s something more to Johnny Suh than what it seems on the outside.

Donghyuck thinks he’s being fucking stupid.

☆

The door creaks open and Johnny can only anticipate Dr. Moon to enter, the bags beneath his eyes as prominent as ever, attempting to crack a pun and failing miserably. Or perhaps it’s that stuttering mess of an intern, Mark Lee, sure his hand was constantly in tremors but he was always so attentive, so caring. Quite the opposite to the horror that was Donghyuck, a sarcastic brat who was always so precise and quick on his feet.

But it isn’t, it’s someone else, face contorted with confusion as he meets Johnny’s eyes. He’s got an elf-like charm to him, one that entices attention more than anything else in the whole wide world. He’s hesitant and for a moment considers exiting the room when Johnny catches him. The man takes a deep breath before slowly opening his mouth. 

“I’m sorry. I must’ve gotten in the wrong room.” He apologizes briefly, bowing slightly as he fiddles with a metal stud, one of the five that decorated his left ear. Johnny finds that they remind him of stars scattered in the night sky. 

“It’s alright, I’m Johnny.”

“Ten.” The male responds, voice faltering as he says his own name. 

“Like the number?” 

“Like the number.”

There’s a blundering silence in the room that demands to be cut by a knife, there is no spark between them. This is no work of fiction, this is reality.

“I’ve got to go, I was supposed to meet someone else.” Ten mutters before bowing once more. Johnny pauses to smile.

“Alright. See you Ten.” He answers, waving shakily careful not to rip out the tube that’s connected to his wrist. 

Of course, when you meet a passing figure and you say those words, you never really mean them.

☆

Prior to the constitution of time, life on Earth was gruesome and grim, no method existed that was capable of constructing a catalogued world. Amidst the aftermath of Time’s creation, man loved it with his whole heart, for it was a reminder of the major moments of his life and an admonition to the days ahead. He cared for Time and held it closer to it than his own kin.

☆

As the weather proceeds to get chillier and the leaves start to turn into shades of sepia, Johnny’s life starts to fall back into the way it used to be or at least what the people surrounding him seem to say. He finds his way back to the red brick cafe. A neon sign on the entrance signifies its name. Johnny thinks it cheesy but he doesn’t mind, it must’ve held value to him if he had chosen to name it that.

The interior, however, seems strange. It’s misplaced for one, there are odd gaps between the displays on the walls as if someone had removed a handful of paintings and replaced them with new ones that don’t quite fit the aesthetic of the cafe. Johnny frowns at the sight of it, but he can’t quite put his finger on it. Everything else seems so familiar though, much to his relief, there are worn in couches that vary in beige or cream. The burnt sienna wooden tables are still placed miscellaneously, they seem to hold memories that even he’s unaware of.

The day Johnny first enters Dream in a Dream, he’s got Jaehyun guiding him through the layout. A college buddy who he opened the place up with. They get along well enough, they share the same taste in humor and music. Things are falling back into place, he thinks.

“So we’ve got two full-time workers, Seulgi and Jungwoo and three part-timers, Sooyoung, Jaemin and Jisung.” Jaehyun explains before he motions to three figures that are dissipated across the cafe. He quickly notes that Jisung is the mousy looking boy who’s ringing up a customer before adding that he’s a college junior who’s majoring in Accounting. “You should be able to remember that, right?”

“Seulgi?” Johnny asks as he subtly points at the cat-like lady who’s picking up a tray of empty latte cups from a table south of the entrance, she seems tired and sleepy.

“Yes, she’s also Sooyoung’s cousin.” Jaehyun nods, his gaze at the female in particular stays for a tad bit longer than Johnny had anticipated.

“Do you and her have a thing going on or?”

“Are you kidding?” Jaehyun chokes, his ears burning a bright red, “Didn’t Doyoung tell you that we started going out?” He adds to reaffirm his response before he walks over to examine the vast array of desserts that are inside the chilled display.

“Oh. He hasn’t.” Johnny answers, struggling to conceal his calamity. He’s not exactly certain why his friends haven’t told him crucial or important about his or their lives.

“Hey, I know there’s a lot of things that we need to catch you up on but we’ll manage.” Jaehyun calmly says as he pats Johnny’s back reassuringly, “Your doctor told us to ease in the information, tell you the basics first.”

“Okay.” Johnny swallows, it’s a bitter lump of reality, he’s got so much to re-discover about himself and he knows it’s going to be difficult. “But you’ve got to let me do one thing.”

“What is it?”

“I really need to change some of these paintings, they just don’t feel right.” Johnny adds, something felt so unsettling about the arrangement of the pieces on the walls.

“Sure! Sure, I trust your sense in design more than anyone else’s.”

☆

Johnny sees a younger version of himself in a small diner, there can’t be more than half a dozen people, from all sorts of different backgrounds scattered across the miscellaneous bunch of seating arrangements.

Johnny can’t help but think that younger him is looking at everyone but the person he’s opposite to at this very moment. Johnny still remembers her name, Natasha Huang, a fellow member in the debate club who’s been pining over him for the past two years. He recalls not having anything to do that night, subsequently no excuse for him to escape this date.

There’s someone in the booth in front of him with piercing eyes and an imp like gleam to them. They smile at Johnny, and he smiles back.

☆

It’s not hard to snap back into a routine again, Johnny thinks as he browses the aisles of a Trader Joe’s for cereal. He remembers that Yuta told him that he liked Apple Jacks but upon trying it again, he learns quickly that he did not enjoy it much to the latter’s dismay. So he settles on a box of Cheerios, sure it’s bland but you can never go wrong with something you grew up on.

And as he debates getting another box, he feels someone’s stare drill holes onto the back of his head. Johnny quips his head and finds a familiar face, it’s the guy from the hospital. He tries to wave at him and he gets a grin back, it looks good on him. He’s got the brightest smile that Johnny’s ever seen, he seems less tense and far more sure of himself.

“Hi Ten.” Johnny greets him as he approaches him with his cart, a mismatched bunch of snacks and cheap soap bars inside. It's the opposite to whatever’s inside Ten’s with what the vegan supplements and raisin granola bars that line the top of his basket.

“You feeling better?” He inquires in response, he’s got a curious glimmer on his face.

“What do you mean?”

“You were in-”

“Oh! Right.” Johnny snaps his fingers to signify his understanding before proceeding to return the second box of Cheerios, he doesn’t need that much. “I’m okay.”

“That’s good to hear.” Ten nods in relief, or as much relief one could have for a stranger. He proceeds to scan through the rows of cereal before groaning loudly.

“Could you please pick up the Cinnamon Toast Crunch up there?” He mumbles, his words are soft enough for Johnny to hear as he points upwards to the row of white boxes on the top of the shelving unit.

“Sure, here you go.” Johnny smiles in response as he hands one of them down to Ten, their fingers touch for more than they’d like and Ten bites his lip. It’s stupid and so childlike but Johnny lets himself have the moment.

“It’s for my kid, absolutely crazy for them.” Ten tells him, he’s not sure why he feels suddenly obliged to tell Johnny that but a little backstory never hurts anybody.

“Kid?” Johnny asks, perhaps a bit too intrigued and taken aback by the discovery.

“Why? Just because I have dyed hair and a shit ton of piercings, I can’t be a parent?” He shoots back almost instantly, his words are rehearsed, it doesn’t seem like it’s the first time Ten’s been remarked that way.

“That’s not what I meant-”

“I’m sorry, it’s just that I get it a lot.” Ten shrugs as he composes himself before placing the cereal inside his basket and recomposing himself, “I didn’t expect it coming from you.”

“What does that mean?” Johnny prods, he really shouldn’t.

“It’s just agitating, you know?” Ten grins as he runs a hand through his hair, “Forget about it, really.” He adds as he walks away slowly, muttering something about organic toilet paper.

“I’m sure you’re a good dad.”

“Really?” Ten scoffs in response, he’s amused by Johnny’s tenacity present as he tries to strike up a conversation with him, no matter how dry.

“You’ve got all that vegan stuff and a bunch of supplements.” Johnny adds as he gestures at the contents of Ten’s basket, “I’m sure you take care of the kid really well.”

“Real sweet.” He smirks but before he can say another word, loud ringing from his pocket interrupts him. “One moment.”

“It what? The new studio light popped?” His voice is awry and he clasps a hand to his mouth before nodding, “Yeah, I’ll be there in a half an hour, I’m getting some stuff that I ran out of at home.” He beckons before hanging up the call, it’s clear that Ten’s quite agitated.

“You have a studio?”

“Yeah, I got an art studio.” Ten sighs as he slips his phone back into his pocket before shooting a bright smile, “See you around.”  
Johnny finds sincerity in Ten’s words as he returns the box of Cheerios and replaces it with a box of Cinnamon Toast Crunch. Johnny learns that he likes them more than any of the cereals he’s tried again so far.

☆

But as centuries fly off the pages, man grew more clever and gained power in ways that one from the early days could only dare to imagine. Driven by his greed and will, man clasped the reins it always had on Time and made him his slave.

☆

“You met the same person twice?” Yuta’s voice is tinged with curiosity as he listens to Johnny wrapping up his story. He pokes his carbonara pasta, he seems disinterested with the meal he ordered for himself and instead he chooses to pick at Taeyong’s plate of lasagna.

“Yeah. He’s really cute.” Johnny nods as he places his fork down, apparently this was his favorite restaurant and it doesn’t seem too far-fetched, something about the pesto fettuccine tasted like home.

“Do you know his name?” Taeyong asks, his eyes are as wide as saucers as he tries to egg Johnny to tell them more about his day.  
Admittedly, Johnny feels slightly uncomfortable with Taeyong at times especially with how he seems to be constantly walking on eggshells whenever he’s near him. It’s not easy for Johnny to believe that they’ve known each other since they were children.

“I think so.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means I’m going to figure all this out by myself.” Johnny responds as he winks at Yuta, though he must confess that it’s starting to get easier to open up with his friends.

☆

Johnny discerns two figures on a rickety bed, an Economics 101 textbook askew on the floor, only accompanied by a flannel shirt he recognizes as his own, a mesh tank top that’s definitely not his, and two pairs of jeans of different sizes dispersed beside it. He recognizes the place as his apartment during his college days. And although he can’t see the figure beside his own body, he can tell who it is nonetheless.

☆

Johnny meets Ten again as he’s trying to buy new bed sheets that aren’t a depressing shade of gray. Johnny finds it peculiar how his place is so incredibly dull, there’s barely anything but black, white and its other variants. And despite the lack of substance about his past, Johnny knows for a fact that he clearly wasn’t a cloying person, or at least that’s what he can decipher from the few photographs his friends have shown him so far.

So Johnny bumps into Ten again, quite literally speaking this time, as he’s trying to fetch an army green pillow case from a top shelf.  
“What the fu-”

“I’m so sorry.” Johnny insists as he steps back before realizing that it was Ten, who’s face had been so utterly pissed off, now instantly switching to pure anxiety. “Do you need help?”

“It’s alright. I’m actually in a rush so I have to go now.” Ten retorts, perhaps a tad bit too harsh than he initially intended to.

“Ten! Who are you with?” A voice shouts from the edge of the aisle, it’s a dark brown haired male who seemed rather concerned.

“It’s just a friend, I’ll be there in a bit, just take her to the playground first!” Ten shouts in response, his words seem to insinuate how he did not want to be spotted with Johnny together. He almost sounded embarrassed.

“Is that your partner?” Johnny asks sheepishly, he’s scared to pry but what else was there to ask? He wasn’t about to ask whether or not Ten wanted a pillow case.

“Kun ? No way.” Ten chortles as he shakes his head dismissively, causing his blonde locks to tussle on to his forehead. He’s got an intoxicating laugh, one that seemed so intimate. It doesn’t help that Johnny can’t help but feel his heart pace a bit faster. “He’s just my best friend, and before you ask, no, I’m not seeing anyone.” 

“That’s-”

“A lot of information?”

“Kind of.”

“It’s alright.” Ten tells him as he selects a navy throw pillow and holds it in his hands, he didn’t carry a cart nor a basket. It seemed like a casual IKEA run, one to fetch a random thing that he had lost. “Didn’t I say that we’re friends?”

“We are?”

“Sure we are.” Ten nods in agreement, he’s got a meek smile plastered on his pink lips.

“I don’t even know your name.” Johnny argues jokingly, he’s got his arms folded, entertained by the conversation they’re having.

“I told you, it’s Ten.” He affirms, feigning aggrievance as he looks the other way but Johnny knows for a fact he’s still grinning brilliantly.

“Okay, Ten.” Johnny continues on, he places an emphasis upon pronouncing the latter’s name, “If we’re friends, then why don’t I have your number?”

“Touche.”

☆

And for a time, mankind prevailed and ruled Earth, not for each other but to fuel their own individual desires. Man owned Time and this became a fact that became well known amongst his predecessors.

☆

“You asked them for their phone number? You’re being fucking ballsy.”

Yuta’s shaking his head fervently, he’s on his third latte of the day and he is nowhere near slowing down. Johnny frowns as he takes the empty cup to the counter before steeping a scoop of ground Brazillian coffee beans. He finds it almost comical how he forgot so much yet making these artisanal drinks came to him incredibly naturally. His friends don’t find it as funny though, and they make it a point to remind him whenever he asks something trivial.

“I don’t know, I got a second go in life, might as well take a chance.” Johnny shrugs, and he waits for the dark liquid to trickle down; he checks the room temperature dessert rack. Upon noticing there’s only one slice of apple pie left, he notifies Jungwoo to get another one from the back where Seulgi had just finished baking it.

“I guess so.” Yuta retorts, he can’t argue with Johnny’s logic either.

“I have a few questions.” Johnny begins after a few minutes of lull, or as lull a popular coffee shop can be on a Saturday afternoon, “I’m not expecting you to respond with everything all at once, and frankly I don’t think I’m ready to know everything yet.”

Yuta is unsure on how to respond so he remains mum as Johnny pours his a quarter cup of unsweetened almond milk into his drink. He only opens his mouth after a few sips of his drink and much consideration.

“Sure, I guess you ought to know.” Yuta nods in agreement, his palms are clammy and the Snoopy themed glass in his grip is slipping ever so slightly. “Ask away.”

“Well, was I in a relationship or anything?”

“No.” Yuta’s response comes faster and much more definite than Johnny would’ve liked, it's almost rehearsed, but he doesn’t question it.

“Oh, okay.” Johnny frowns at his words, it wasn’t like he expected to hear he had a partner or anything, but perhaps a bit more elaboration would’ve been easier to take in.

“I- It’s just weird okay?” Yuta tells him, it’s evident he’s also displaced by the question as he places his latte wonkily on top of the coaster, “You never wanted to talk about stuff like that.”

“Really?” Johnny lifts an eyebrow, he’s always considered himself somewhat of a romantic.

“Yeah.” The Japanese male attests.

Johnny doesn’t ask questions to Yuta anymore.

☆

Johnny looms from the rooftop of the coffee shop, he can tell today is the grand opening from the balloons at the entrance and the small crowd gathering outside. He sees himself wearing something aside from a t-shirt and jeans, slightly more put together, slightly younger.  
Younger him is beaming brightly and although it’s not expressed on his face Johnny knows that he’s terrified as hell.

A figure beside him squeezes his hand, a symbol of reassurance and he can see himself visibly loosen up. Johnny chews his lip.

☆

“Why’d you ask for my number?”

Ten’s question is poignant, perhaps it’s the reason why he’s been keeping the distance between him and Johnny, both metaphorically and literally speaking.

“I don’t have that many friends.” Johnny answers truthfully, so far he’s only found out that he’s got four friends, perhaps six if he considered Seulgi and Jungwoo as something more than just his employees.

“In a city this big?” Ten scoffs in disbelief, he’s staring at a tree, a few feet from them, it’s a willow, strong and sturdy. Its leaves are bristling in the wind, and Ten grips his coat a bit more tightly as if he were afraid he might be taken away by the weather. “Especially with you being a social butterfly and what not, I find that very hard to believe.”

“I’m not sure how I ended up this way either.” Johnny chuckles as he rubs his hands to generate friction and heat, it’s a rather chilly day afterall, “Believe me, I’m all about making friends.”

“That sounds sexual.”

“You’re such a pervert, I swear to god.” Now it’s Johnny’s turn to scoff, he’s bewildered by Ten’s ability to be so blunt and honest. On the other hand, he’s afraid that Ten thinks he’s a prude, someone who’s afraid of a little misadventure.

“Well, now it’s my turn to ask a question.” Johnny counters as he notices Ten’s solemnity as he gazes strongly at the tree, “Do you want to walk over there? You’ve been looking at it for a while.”

“Sure.” Ten nods, he returns a glimmering smile, the one that blinds eyes and heals heart, well at least that’s what Johnny thinks of it, “I’m sorry, I haven’t visited Lincoln in a while.”

“It’s fine, I haven’t either, the last time I can remember coming here was when I was a little kid.” Johnny tells him, he’s not lying per say, the last time he could recall visiting the playground not far from where they stood was when he was in elementary school. He’s not sure if he’s visited since but he doesn’t want to explain everything to Ten.

Ten wants to say something but he holds his breath.

“We’re sad people, this place is beautiful.” Ten sighs finally as he throws his hands in the air before sprinting the last few feet to the willow. Johnny chases after him and they’re tired but they don’t express any anguish, he feels like a teenager once more.

“It really is.”

“Anyways, your question?”

“What question?”

“You literally used your turn to ask to run up here, I think you deserve to ask another one.” Ten explains as he grazes his fingers on the rough bark of the tree, Johnny grits his teeth at the fear of splinters implanting themselves on his palm so he steps back slightly, allowing Ten to appreciate it on a wider scale.

“Alright, why are you single?”

Now it’s Ten’s turn to wince, his eyes dart all across the coarse and dark brown surface of the willow’s trunk. He remains mute as he’s trying to find something that’s discernibly not there. Johnny knows he’s knocked the wrong door so he tries to open his mouth to say a word but he’s interrupted by Ten.

“I have my daughter.” He laments as he looks upwards, it’s a mosaic of gnarled mustard leaves, cascading upon one another, it’s a breath of fresh air in a sea of sorrel tones. 

“Oh.” Johnny nods, he’s not bold enough to interject or suggest something new, but a part of him finds Ten’s brief disclosure to be hard to grasp.

☆

Fortunately for Time, Man’s children were not as careful and precise. Yes, they were intelligent beyond measure and owned more wit than their father before. But they were naive, they never knew what a life as daunting as the ones before them had, in its jist, they did not know a time without Time.

☆

“You asked that to Yuta?” Doyoung demands, he’s in shock at how nonchalantly Johnny talked about his conversation with Yuta a while ago in the coffee shop. He gestures to the bartender for another shot of tequila as he shakes his head in distress.

“Honestly, he’s the worst at that sort of shit.” Jaehyun shakes his head as he squeezes Doyoung’s shoulder comforting the male in question, “So how’d he answer it?” He’s biting his lip, as if he were hoping for a certain counterclaim.

“He just said no, and that was it.” Johnny frowns as he sways his beer bottle, it’s half empty and he’s not sure if he wants another one considering how it’s already 11 and he’s got the supervising shift at the cafe in the morning.

“Oh well, you know, if you want to ask us some other things, feel free to do so.” Doyoung says, nodding excitedly as he picks up the feeble shot glass and downs the burning bronze liquid in one gulp. “I don’t want you to fall into another coma when you look through your records one day- Wait was that distasteful?”

“It’s fine, I get what you mean, honestly, if it’s not involved in terms of legality, I don’t think I want to know.” Johnny deflects before deciding he’s had enough alcohol for the night, “Fresh page and all that jazz, you know?”

But Johnny’s not even sure if his words are reflecting his current state at heart.

☆

Johnny’s bare feet are besmirched in the sand and he sees a couple kiss in the far distance. Tribulations and cheer fill his ears, fireworks explode and laughter is heard, a wedding. The signature scent of bougainvilles and orchids entangles with the salty aroma of the ocean waves crashing upon one another, a combination he hasn’t breathed in in a while.

But what Johnny doesn’t get to experience is the taste of the wine he had tasted then, Domaine De La Romane, 1978, crisp and child-like, just like this memory.

☆

It’s not a particularly shining day yet it isn’t quite gloomy either, but with a subtle breeze passing by them, Johnny thinks it’s too good of an opportunity to go to the beach to pass over. 12th Street has always been his favorite beach in Illinois, it’s an innate spot that tourists aren’t exactly aware of and at a great distance from the looming skyscrapers in the city.

And so of course, he drags Ten with him.

“I’m sorry for what I said the other day.” He begins as he admires the distant waves crash on the sand, the sound of them collapsing upon one another reminds him of a lullaby, “I don’t want you to think I’m trying to coerce you into doing something you don’t want.”

There’s a glum church a mile away that Johnny can see within eyeshot, something about it evokes a shrapnel of his past. He’s definite that he had visited as a child with his parents however he isn’t convinced whether the place was a concave of detestment or comfort. It’s a near to perfect representation of how he feels about Chicago, familiar yet not quite.

“I could never think that of you.” Ten disdains as if he couldn’t believe what he had just heard, his hands are wrist-deep in the sand, allowing the little granules to filter through the gaps of his lithe fingers. “I shouldn’t have snapped either.”

“I’m just tired.”

“Tired of what?”

“This city.” Ten answers, his glare is austere and bitter and he looks agnately resentful as he chucks a pebble into the water, it doesn’t skip. “There’s too many spiteful memories here.”

“That’s sad.” Johnny observes, he doesn’t want to say more than he should, he’s scared that Ten is going to run away. He can’t afford it, he’s the only person to treat him like he’s a person that hasn’t got a fragile sticker pasted on his chest.

“You could always make new memories.”

“New memories?” Ten pertains, he quips his head to face Johnny, his eyes gleaming with eagerness and intrusivity.

“Make the most out of what you have.”

“You sound like a Pinterest board.”

“There’s no denying that there’s some truth in it though.” Johnny insists, he’s glad that Ten’s no longer hostile, “You just need to change the lens you’re seeing the world through.”

“Maybe.”

And although it wasn’t coherently a promise, Johnny must concede that it sounded like one in his ears.

☆

So Time took the hand crafted opportunity he was gifted unknowingly by Man with pride and sought revenge to the ones who wronged him. He ripped off his shackles and abandoned his chains, taking Man’s place when they were the most vulnerable, during times of pain and loss.

☆

“Where’d you find these paintings Johnny?” Jaemin chirps up as he wipes the espresso machine free off Arabica coffee bean grounds before Sooyoung decks his chest, shooting him a look that essentially tells him to shut up.

“I was sorting through inventory last night in the back room and I stumbled upon them.” Johnny answers, he’s pleased by the arrangement of abstract drawings and mesmerizing paintings on the walls in exchange for the boring Shutterstock paintings that used to decorate the space. “Doesn’t it look nicer like this?”

“Sure.” Sooyoung beams before mouthing at Jaemin to not say another word, “The place looks much brighter now.”

“Glad to hear that Sooyoung.” Johnny responds as he approaches a canvas in particular, he had placed it above a table that’d typically fit a dozen. It’s so astonishingly mundane that Johnny finds himself baffled why they weren’t put up on display instead of the disgustingly monotonous ones that used to be put up.

“I wonder why these ones weren’t displayed despite already being in the back.”

“Well-”

“Well, Jaehyun thought it’d be clever to switch out the paintings every once in a while.” Sooyoung answers as she eyes Jaemin carefully, she tells him to get more milk from the storage cupboard much to his disapproval.

“I suppose so.”

☆

Johnny stands across the road from a tiny brick house, the kind that he’s dreamt of owning ever since he visited Jake Shoma’s holiday house during the summer of sophomore year. He sees a man in the lawn, playing with a group of children, cops and robbers, he’s the robber obviously. Even from afar, Johnny can tell that he’s specifically attentive to one of them.

The game is interrupted after a shout is heard from inside the house, their voice melodic and brisk, calling for a lunch of ham and cheese sandwiches with a pitcher of Thai Tea.

Despite the blurred lines between his recollections, Johnny knows that this is the end of all the times that he can smile back on and for a moment he doesn’t want to remember anymore.

☆

“Remember our conversation under the willow tree?”

Johnny nods as a reply, he’s not sure how he managed to convince Ten to come over to his apartment to make his signature Tom Yum Goong but hey, he’s here now.

“Yes.”

“I think I can answer your question.”

“Oh.” Johnny hums softly as he places his knife down gingerly on the chopping board, the carrots remain there, in miscellaneous shapes that are the opposite of uniform.

“I’m not ready.” Ten whispers, he sounds rather ashamed of his statement, his eyes are still trained on the boiling pot of broth, bubbles bursting at full volume.

They stay like that for a while, yet for some reason it doesn’t feel anomalous, it plays like a scene from an old favorite movie that hasn’t been played in a while. Chet Baker croons from an old record player and Ten would warble some of the words that he knows. It’s not hard to like Ten’s voice, it’s smooth and it’s reminiscent of silk, Johnny’s confident that he’s heard it before, a faint fragment of his life before.

Their hands collide as they try to clean up the used utensils as they let the stew cook for a while. It’s a giggly affair, Johnny doesn’t think much of it, his thoughts running wild as he thinks of being with Ten, not just as friends or whatever they were. It sounds so picture-esque albeit so far away.

But as they dry off their hands, Johnny asks himself whether there was anything to fear in asking a harmless inquisition?  
“Are you still afraid?”

“I never said I was afraid.” Ten scoffs, he’s disenchanted as he averts his eyes from Johnny’s face as he always does whenever they reach the topic of matter. They’re no longer the ambiguous amber they usually are, they’re a daunting ecru, he’s offended that he’s accused of such a trait.

“Then why do you always take a step back whenever we get too close?” Johnny asks, he’s devoid and confused, he doesn’t know what to say. It’s simply not fair.

“I don’t, I’m just protecting myself.” Ten objects in disapproval of such an incrimination. His eyebrows furrow in animosity, he finds it difficult to take Johnny’s words to heart. He’s so acclimated to a lifetime of deceit and perfidy that he can’t take a dollop of kindness, well at least that’s what’s running through Johnny’s head.

“You’re just afraid of falling in love again.” Johnny concludes, a smirk on his lips, his arms folded, he’s cocksure of his stance in the matter.

“You call this love?” Ten sneers as he picks up his jean jacket, mangled and distressed beyond measure with doodles all across the sleeves, he’s entertained by Johnny’s bona fide callowness, how could he joke about such a matter?

Johnny should know this, he knows how Ten admires the mere concept of love. He knows this in the way that Ten adores his dainty line tattoo of a flower pot with the writing ‘Love grows here’. He knows this in the way Ten rambles on about how he wished he lived in a Nicholas Sparks novel. Johnny used to think that it was aberrant how someone who loved the blatant concept of love so much, avoided it at all costs.

“I mean, don't you think what we have is love?” Johnny is convinced that he can still refute Ten’s pessimistic perspective, blinded by the prospect of having someone by his side, having Ten as something more than a shooting star, there for a minute and gone the next.

“You can’t even face the past.”

Ten’s words sting more than Johnny would care to admit.

“I know you run a dance studio, you have a daughter you love dearly, your favorite ice cream flavor is mint chocolate chip-”

“Anyone can tell me that, Johnny.” Ten forces a half-smile as he slips on the sleeves of his jacket brusquely, “Stop trying to save something that’s clearly already fixed, especially when you haven’t got a culmination on what’s going on with your life.”

“I shouldn’t have visited you that day.” He mutters as he closes the door to Johnny’s apartment firmly.

Ten’s words sound final and damning as Johnny buries his head into his arms, the soup left simmering on the stove, destined to burn, just like they always were meant to be.

☆

Time punished Man with the most painful gift of all, he blinded them from the reality of life and reaped the benefit that came with their ignorance.

☆

Johnny’s life without Ten is sullen and avidly bleak. His days seem to melt together and even his friends find that there’s a perpetual desolate cloud cowering above his head on a regular basis. He likes his friends, and the prospect of a tomorrow is something he never fails to be grateful for. However no matter how frequently he tries to look on the bright side of things, he can’t deny the lack of that je ne sais quoi in his life with Ten’s absence.

As the weather transitions to below zero and snow begins to plummet from the sky, Johnny starts to think perhaps it was a facade? Perhaps he was indeed too rash and he shouldn’t have forced his thoughts on Ten? There were a lot of things to consider, and it took longer than he would ever dare to admit to get over the fleeting liaison he had with Ten.

Yuta tells him that he had simply been trying to get a grip on his life by rushing into a relationship and Jaehyun agrees begrudgingly. Doyoung essentially tells him the same thing, just in a slightly harsher manner, and quote, ‘At least now you can let go of this mystery guy and get your shit together.’ Johnny laughed then, none of their words had conveyed any malicious intent.

The holidays come and go and Johnny finds some solitude in creating a winter menu at the cafe. Jungwoo offers to bring back some old recipes but Johnny dismisses him telling him that revamping the menu wouldn’t be burdensome. It’s a lonely while, with Jaehyun and Doyoung returning to Boston to visit the former’s relatives and Yuta and his backpacking shenanigans in Sweden for his job as a journalist.

Taeyong comes and goes as he always does, he stays a bit longer in Seoul than usual, claiming flights over the new year cost more than he could afford. He’s kind enough to stop by Johnny’s apartment after he returns, bringing a bag of goodies and snacks that he alleges they had liked during their youth. They have coffee and Taeyong shares a few stories about his family, specifically shenanigans of his nieces and nephews. Johnny laughs for the first time in a while.

“Yong, I have something to ask.” Johnny beseeches as he fixes his hold on his cup. The male in question had just wrapped up the tale of how he got tricked into buying them a bag of sweets during a day trip to Myeongdong Station.

“What is it?”

“Did I have any family?”

The atmosphere in Johnny’s apartment living room shifts as an incontestable stiffness settles in the air. Taeyong tenses up as he brings the mug of black coffee to his lips, taking a long sip, eyes shut close. He takes a deep breath before he opens his mouth once more.

“No.”

“What do you mean?” Johnny asks as he stands up from his position on the couch, he’s disconcerted at the fact that his friends are constantly diverting the topic from his external contacts. Have they been deceiving him?

“You’re estranged by your family.” Taeyong answers before Johnny can jump into any other conclusions, it’s seemingly arduous for him to say anything else. His voice is hoarse and choked yet he remains still. “They didn’t like the person you were with.”

“Didn’t Yuta say that I didn’t have-”

“Were.” Taeyong reaffirms his response, he’s incapable of setting his eyes straight at Johnny as if he were wary that the wrong selection of words would set off something in the latter.

“What happened?”

“It’s a long story.”

“I have more than enough time.” Johnny nods, as much as Jaehyun and the rest have been feeding him more and more information about his past, it’s still a tough pill to swallow with what the returning recollections of his childhood and subsequently his parents.

“I think this is something you have to find out by yourself.” Taeyong says as he collects his items that are misplaced all over Johnny’s coffee table before proceeding to stack them up on one corner, “You told us, that if you could forget about this part of your life, you wouldn’t want any reminder of it.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means, all you need to know is in your identification papers and whether or not you want to remember, that’s all up to you.” 

Taeyong concludes as he gestures at the stack of papers that’s jammed within a fuschia folder on the shelving unit near the television, untouched and collecting dust.

And with that Johnny doesn’t ask anymore questions about his past to Taeyong.

☆

“You’re so stupid, how the fuck is this my fault?”

Johnny wishes this memory could have remained buried forever. 

“You’re always at work! You never support me whenever I do jackshit.”

He shuts his eyes and looks away from the scene and he lets himself wander the house as the screaming and shouting begin to fade away into the background.

“That’s a goddamn lie and you know it, Youngho.”

Johnny bites his tongue at the mention of his Korean name, no one calls him that anymore, not since.

“I put your shitty paintings up at the cafe for fuck’s sake.”

There’s dust on top of the piano, he groans at the sight of it, unused and still. He knows that he hadn’t played the instrument for a while then, leaving the house is void of music and its cheerful spirit.

“Take that back.”

Nothing is exchanged between either of them but even Johnny can tell that their hearts are both racing and beads of sweat trickling down their forehead. Nothing romantic is exchanged, not anymore, only grit and rue remains. He feels regret and resentment at himself pelt his chest.

Johnny sees a small figure on the foot of the spiral staircase and his heart sinks.

He did not know this then.

And as the memory begins to fog again, Johnny comes to the conclusion that he knows that he has to do the right thing and go back home.

☆

Johnny is finally at his final destination, a quaint little red brick house in the Chicagoan suburbs. There’s not much to it to an outsider but it’s the cause of a flood of recollections for Johnny. Bold images begin to flash in his head like an old fashioned film, there are some of him running around the very same backyard, he’s a bit younger in them and he’s got a wide grin plastered on his face. Another one comes to mind, he’s reading a book to a bunch of kids.

But Johnny can tell there’s pain and despondency blistered between these joyous depictions of the life he used to live. Splinters of screaming and shouting find their way to his ears, albeit the lack of vividry. And as he reaches the front door, he lets his hands roam across a column that supports the wrap-around porch. There’s carvings etched out on them, some fanciful, with looping moons and detailed drawings of Pokemon characters. But some are so undoubtedly childlike, there’s one of a crooked heart and another of a smiley face.  
One, however, sticks out like a sore thumb. Johnny can’t help but stare at it as he waits for the door to open.

It’s the portrait of a girl and two taller figures, one scratched out with pencil.

And we are finally here at the beginning of our story.

☆

And that is how it’s been for the longest time, and the stories of Time and his siege with man became simple fairy tales for parents to tuck their children to bed with, a cautionary story to warn the youth not to take their time on Earth for granted.

☆

Upon the door opening, Johnny notices that whoever is about to welcome or dismiss him is an unfamiliar face. It’s a male with short chestnut brown hair and a knitted maroon sweater vest. His smile, once so bright and cheery slowly faded and disappeared, he’s evidently displeased by Johnny’s arrival.

“I’m-”

“Johnny, I know.” The male in question tries to sound professional but Johnny can deduce that he’s putting up a front and that he’s got emotions torn with him, “You obviously can’t remember me but I’m Kun.” He adds as he offers a hand to Johnny, he takes it. He’s got a firm shake but Johnny doesn’t mind.

“I’m looking for-”

“Yeah, he’s right in here.” Kun says as he gestures Johnny inside the home. Upon stepping foot on the woollen carpeting, Johnny can’t deny a far more vibrant rush of remnants of his life coming back to him. “I’d stay but my boss just phoned, I really have to go.”

“Ah alright.” A voice shouts from the kitchen, one that Johnny was beginning to get accustomed to not hearing. “Who is it?”

The owner of the voice is impatient, because before Kun got the opportunity to answer, Johnny is face to face with the man who he loved, both in the time before and after the time he chose to let go.

☆

Well at least that’s what Time wants us to think.

☆

“How’d you find-”

“You knew about why I ended up in the hospital?” Johnny demands, his eyes are hurtling from examining the paintings on the wall, terribly evocative to the ones he had placed at the cafe during early winter. His hand gripping the fuschia file in his clutch. 

All signed at the bottom left, 李永钦.

The house is different from the slivers of the pictures in his head. Johnny bites his lip, the grand piano made of mahogany he used to love to play, the focal point in the foyer, is long gone now. The selection of photographs on the walls are unfamiliar, the same unsettling feeling he felt at the cafe upon seeing the works of art of the wall washes over him.

They’re all of a young girl, varying in age, most of which were of her in her toddler years. A few are more recent, displaying the same girl, entering her elementary school years, bright eyed and bushy tailed, beaming straight at the camera. Johnny feels a surge of pride enter his system as droplets descend from his eyes, painting his cheeks with his tears.

He remembers.

“Johnny, I-”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” His words are wavering, Johnny reaches out to touch the portrait of Ten and Yeri, gleaming and aglow as they take, what seems to be, a self-timer shot. There’s a fat cat that she’s showing off proudly to the lens, its bronze bell collar pompous in the photograph.

“I remember what you said last, you know? I kept playing that one sentence on repeat, it wasn’t an accident how you showed up there.”

“I wanted to.” Ten insists, he’s got an unkempt hoodie on, it’s lavender and it’s a few sizes too large for him. This time, it’s easy for Johnny to deduce that it used to belong to him.

“I was going through my records and it clearly stated that you were informed of what happened.”

“Then why didn’t you tell me?” Johnny’s words echo throughout the airy abode, the sun panel he had installed what felt like a lifetime ago, allowing beads of sunshine to trickle indoors. His accusation pierces through the vacuity between them, Ten flinches.

“Do you still remember the aftermath of our divorce?”

It’s a question that Johnny knows the answer to, yet his lips remain shut.

“I don’t.” He lies through his teeth, his gaze fixed at the portrait, Ten had red hair in it per contra his roots are showing tinges of dark brown.

Johnny knows the answer, it’s impossible not to when shadows of past conversations and fights have taunted him from the moment he stepped foot in this house.

“Tell me.” Ten asserverates unwilling to let Johnny off freely.

“I can’t.”

“Johnny, we both know that we can’t move on if we never talk about it.”

Ten’s words assert the reality of the situation that Johnny put himself in. 

Confrontation is never pretty.

☆

Ten used to be a different person. The differences might not be as clear-cut anyone would expect. The Ten before their divorce wasn’t different in the way his ears were free of piercings, skin bare of ink and hair a natural brown. He was antithetic in a distinct manner, he was naive and hopeful.

Now, a stranger might think that present Ten is still jaded and irksome of the future. But that person is a stranger conclusively speaking, because despite Ten’s outlandish outward appearance, he has got his shit together. But he wasn’t always like that and for a long time after Johnny drifted away from his life, Ten thought of himself as the sole peony in a garden of roses. Except, perhaps not as eloquent and lovely.

Johnny might think that Ten has moved on with his life, and that he picked himself together and sewn up the empty holes in his life with a colorful mismatch of patches. But he’s wrong, he’s wrong to think that Ten was always okay and that him waltzing in his life would be the equivalent of a mere breeze passing by. Johnny is wrong because Ten was never alright. And he still isn’t, he’s just gotten much better at hiding behind a mask.

Ten wasn’t fine when he had looked back on the last trip they took as a family to 12th Street Beach, it was a weekend getaway, an escapade from the cafe and his teaching job at the local elementary school and what they wished were their problems. But it was a lie of course, they still fought when Yeri was fast asleep and tucked in bed.

Ten wasn’t fine when he signed the papers to their divorce albeit the neutral expression on his face, not bearing to spare another look at Johnny’s face.

Ten wasn’t fine when he saw Johnny in IKEA, shopping for dull gray furniture with a solemn look on his face, a month after their ties had been severed.

Ten wasn’t fine when Johnny was within eyeshot when he was playing with Yeri at Lincoln Park’s playground, chattering with a woman that Ten did not know. He sees his daughter point at her father, the man in question either oblivious or ignoring the entire scene, Ten had grit his teeth.

Ten wasn’t fine when he got a voice memo from the UChicago Hospital during the middle of the day as he’s just finished teaching a class on working with gouache strokes informing him that his ex-husband, Johnny Suh, had fallen into a coma after attempting to commit suicide via overdose on sleeping pills and Jack Daniels.

But there was a time, gaps of time in between these points, where he was okay, or at least he didn’t feel like he was about to crumble everytime someone reminded him of the existence of his life before.

There are thousands of things that Ten remembers that Johnny claims to be incapable of recollecting. There are delicate and dainty figments that Ten chooses to shelter despite the nature of their separation, and there are aching fractions of his life before that he chooses to look away from.

But then something would come back to remind him that he wasn’t fine, a taunt telling him that he never truly was alright. He gets this slap of reality when he gets a phone call from a jittery male voice in the middle of the night stating that his ex-husband, Johnny Suh, had awoken from his 6 month long comatose state.

And for three whole hours, he paces his bedroom, throat dry and inarticulate, frightened to make too much noise and awaken his daughter across the hall. Should he visit now when he hadn’t even dropped by when he was admitted? Ten doesn’t want to think that he’s the antagonist of his own tale, but that one action, that one selfish and cruel action, might’ve just twisted the path of his life.

Perhaps if he visited, brought flowers and a handwritten apology, things would right themselves somehow. Ten thinks that maybe by handing Johnny a bowl of his mother’s Tom Yum, it would erase and wipe the slate of the past three years. Because in a way, Ten’s learned over the past half a year that Johnny wasn’t completely at fault with the way it ended.

Perhaps, Ten was wrong too. Maybe he shouldn’t have nagged at him about taking his vitamins and drinking his green juice every single morning. Maybe he shouldn’t have gossiped about his friends’ love lives as often as he did. Maybe he shouldn’t have been too fussy and touchy after hours. There are a lot of things that Ten begins to remember as his head clears, void of worrying about bumping into Johnny Suh in public.

Ten doesn’t know how to feel when he’s face to face with Johnny Suh after two years of radio silence. He doesn’t know how to react as the older male seems to have forgotten whatever they shared, or at least is refusing to bring up their past, allowing them to converse like strangers. Ten takes it though, he can’t deny how much Johnny’s absence in his life has affected him. In a way, he feels like he’s brought back to their younger days, where taxes and paying bills were phrases unheard of.

Ten grips on to this version of Johnny as his life begins to permeate, as he gets new friends and earns a bit more. A relic of his past, something that he can’t quite let go of. He knows it’s wrong but he can’t help but cling on to fragments of his life.

☆

“If you can’t say it yet, I will.”

Because Ten knows, no matter how terribly he wants to deny the reality of his life right now, that being with Johnny, felt right.

No matter how uncertain the past few months have been, it’s the first time that Ten hasn’t thought about the hands on the clock racing past. He’s allowed himself to grow as the seasons come forth and leave, finally allowing them to blend with one another.

Perhaps, things had to burn into ash so that something new could come to fruition, like a phoenix reborn, mightier and on a scale beyond incandescent.

But Ten knows, as Man did too, that you have to take the bitter step forward to move on, no matter how painful it is.

☆

“The moment we got divorced, we promised that we would never speak to each other again.”

Ten’s words are blunt but they tell nothing but the truth.

“Maybe you were more insistent on the matter, but I wasn’t one to argue, I wasn’t that fond of you either then.”

“Everytime we spotted one another, we pretended we were strangers. And you knew, you fucking knew, that after a while, I wanted to reach out, maybe try and work things. I messaged, I called and tried to ask your friends, and they all said the same thing.”

“No.”

A single word but that’s all it takes to cause another flash flood of tears to tumble down on Johnny’s cheek.

“You knew, and you pushed me away, so when I heard about what happened, I figured, you didn’t want me in your life anymore and I probably should back off.” Ten states calmly, there are no tears in his eyes but his voice is wavering, like it always does whenever he’s nervous or wary.

“And then you woke up, right as I had begun to get my shit together as Yeri got into the fantastic private school up north, and as my studio finally opened.”

Johnny knows it’s not his fault but he can’t help but he tries to look away.

“But you know, with the time we had apart, I figured my life out, it was never your fault as it was never my fault entirely. We both made mistakes, we rushed into this life altogether when we were so young, we were 25 when you got me that stupid Ring Pop and proposed to me outside that bar we used to frequent.”

But Ten knows him better than Johnny would ever dare to admit.

“The only reason I went to the hospital was to apologize and you, you didn’t remember. I think there were moments when I was certain you knew who I was but remained silent, I wasn’t sure how much you knew, your doctor was even so hesitant, on what you knew and didn’t. But I took it, because I was selfish and I still am.”

Johnny swallows, he’s always known that Ten was a part of his past, perhaps a large chunk of it, but why were those memories the blurriest when he tried to remember? It played like a bad TV drama, so promising in the start and collapsing into oblivion as it came to a close.

“I missed talking to you, without the screaming and the shouting, and even though neither of us knew where we were headed, we were alright.”

And Johnny, he knew this of course, their amicable conversations were the light at the end of the tunnel, the one thing he looked forward to after a long day at the cafe. Sure, he couldn’t recap all the times they’ve fought as well as Ten, but he knew, from the shrapnels he could collect, that they weren’t pretty. Objects were thrown around, vulgar vocabulary at its peak usage and just anger and annoyance, fighting for dominance.

“Let’s start afresh. I’m sorry.”

Those words might not mean much, but it’s the start, it’s the beginning of a hundred conversations varying in length and in depth. It means something because Ten smiles for the first time in a long time, a genuine one, not the kind one would flash at the club when someone they weren’t interested in made a move.

“I’m sorry too.”

Ten’s grin is lopsided and it’s not a full beam but Johnny takes it, and he knows that this time it’s a promise, he’s certain this time. A promise that they’ll talk it through, and even if they won’t end up the picture-perfect family that they had envisioned in their youth, they will still try.

Johnny will apologize to Yeri and their lives will begin to intertwine again after she’s accepted it. Johnny will re-introduce Ten to his friends, he knows that Yuta will faint, that Taeyong will shake his head yet welcome Ten back with open arms, he knows that Doyoung will say that he should’ve known and that Jaehyun will smile sheepishly.

There’s still a lot to do, and this time, Johnny and Ten are aware that they’re not the picture they wanted to hang on the walls as young adults. They know that they aren't perfect and that they never were.

Their story is proof that time, at the end of the day, is just an idea and nothing more

This is not the end of their story, it’s another chapter, and we are nowhere near the end.

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/ODETO10) and [Spotify](https://open.spotify.com/user/gymewm6sqkr42wxfdibu8612e?si=pY85msJ-T6m5IpJJ-AO8kw)


End file.
